Barack Obama is visiting an Edinburgh hospital. He enters a ward full of patients with no obvious sign of injury or illness. He greets one.

The patient replies: “Fair fa your honest sonsie face,/ Great chieftain o’ the puddin race,/ Aboon them a ye tak’ yer place,/ Painch, tripe or thairm,/ Weel are ye worthy o’ a Grace, as langs my airm.”

Obama is confused, so he just grins and moves on to the next patient. The next patient responds: “Some hae meat an canna eat,/ And some wad eat that want it,/ But we hae meat an we can eat,/ So let the Good Lord be thankit.”

Even more confused, and his grin now rictus-like, the President moves on to the next patient, who immediately begins to chant: “Wee sleekit, cowerin, timorous beasty,/ O whit a panic’s in thy breasty,/ Thou needna start awa sae hastie,/ Wi bickering brattle.”

Now seriously troubled, Obama turns to the accompanying doctor and asks, ‘Is this a psychiatric ward?’ ‘No,’ replies the doctor, ‘this is the serious Burns unit’.